The Wannabees

The Wannabees

Chapter One: The rose and the thorn

"Hey, don't do that!" Poppa Bee spoke very sternly, but calmly and quietly, to his little daughter, who was sitting at the table with him.

"I want that!" Rosie screamed back at her father. She was trying to grab a tiny, red rose that he had placed in a small crystal vase, at the center of the family's dinner table, in the dining room of their beehive.

Suddenly, she pulled the edge of the white, embroidered tablecloth and almost everything tumbled to the floor. "My name is Rosie Bee and that rose is mine."

"No! It is not yours!" Poppa replied sternly, in no uncertain terms. He had managed to catch the tiny, red rose just in time, but the bud vase fell off the table and broke into hundreds of pieces, as it crashed on the floor. "Now look at what you have done!"

"This rose is a gift for your older sister, Mitsy. I picked it especially for her, because she is graduating from beehive school today. I know you really don't understand about beehive school or beehive graduation yet, as you are just too young. Just be good, because this is a very special day for her and we should all be celebrating her graduation together."

"Your mother will be coming in from the garden very soon," he assured Rosie, as he quickly picked up the broken glass and cleaned up the rest of the mess on the floor. "Just settle down."

He thought to himself, "I have so many children and they are all such wonderful and good children. I wonder what kind of a little monster bee this one is going to turn out to be if she continues on this way?"

"I want that red rose, Poppa. Give it to me!" Rosie, ordered. "Now!"

"I said 'no' and I meant it!" replied Poppa. "Now you go to your room!"

Rosie's face got redder and redder. "I said that want it!" she screamed at him suddenly. It looked like she was about to cry. She hollered at him again. "I will not go to my room, Poppa. I want my rose and I want it now!"

As she looked at her father angrily, tears began streaming down her cheeks. "I am going to get that rose and I won't stop screaming until I get it!"

So the screaming continued. Gradually it got louder and louder until at last, Poppa finally gave in and picked Rosie up. He held her tight in his arms. "Ok, you win," he said, handing her the tiny, red rose that he had picked for Mitsy.

"I cannot stand the screaming any longer," he said to himself sadly. "Why do I always give in to you, Rosie? Oh, what am I going to do with you?"

"Oh no, not another temper tantrum," Mitsy thought to herself, as she stood outside the door, listening for a moment before she entered the room. "Hey Rosie, what is all the screaming about?" she asked her little sister. "I could hear you hollering a mile away."

Mitsy stood there waiting for a reply and watched Rosie tear the petals and the leaves of the tiny, red rose from its stem. She tossed everything on the floor.

"There!" screamed Rosie, looking at her older sister. "Poppa picked it for me and you can't have it."

"Poppa," Mitsy asked quietly, "Why did you let her do that?"

"You always get everything," Rosie screamed at her older sister. "I never get anything."

"I am so sorry," Poppa said to Mitsy. He stood up and moved Rosie to another chair. Then he walked over to where Mitsy was still standing and said quietly to her, "I will pick another rose for you."

"That's ok, Poppa," Mitsy replied cheerfully. "You don't have to do that. I know that you picked it for my graduation and that is good enough for me." She bent down and gently picked up the scattered petals and leaves. "I will put them in my yearbook and press them. I am going to save them forever."

"Keep your yearbook up on the top shelf," Poppa suggested quietly to her. "Way up high."

"I will," Mitsy replied. "And Poppa, thanks. I just love the fact that you went out and picked that tiny, red rose for me....even if...." The rest, she left unsaid, as she gave him a quick hug. "I love you."

"You always work hard and you deserve it. I love you too," her father said to her proudly.

"I want the petals," Rosie screamed at her, as she watched her older sister holding the remnants of the tiny, red rose in her hands. "You have all the fun. I never get to have any fun. It's not fair."

"Working hard and playing hard, that is the way to really have fun," Mitsy said, as she turned her head to look at Rosie. She handed her one rose petal, which Rosie immediately put in her mouth and crushed.Then she spat it out, onto the floor of the beehive. The older sister was stunned and very sorry that she had given it to her.

"Now why did you have to do that?" Mitsy asked. "That was not even nice."

"I want all of them," Rosie yelled at her. "That was my rose. Give them all to me now! It was mine, not yours! Poppa gave it to me, not to you."

"So you can destroy them all? No!" said the older sister firmly, as she paused near the doorway.

"You already ruined one rose petal. Why should you be allowed to wreck all of them?"

"You could learn a lot from your older sister!" Poppa said to Rosie.

"Hey, what is going on in here anyhow?" Momma Bee, the mother of the two girls asked, as she came through the kitchen doorway just at that moment, carrying a basket of fresh food from the garden. She took a quick look around the room as she put the basket down on the table. "What happened?"

"Why did you have to be so mean to your little sister?" she asked before anyone had a chance to answer her questions. She gazed at Mitsy sternly.

"I didn't do anthing to her....." Mitsy protested.

"I am the mother around here and you are not. Now go to your room until you can learn to be nicer to your little sister. Right now!"

Momma picked up Rosie, who was screaming louder than ever. She cuddled her saying, "There, there, my pretty little Rosie....." She took out her handkerchief and began to wipe the tears from
Rosie's eyes and and gently brushed back the hair that was sticking to her tiny face.

Mitsy looked at her father and neither of them said one word about what had just happened.

"Look what I brought for you," Momma said to Rosie, as she handed her a little doll. I found this in the garden. You can play with it."

"Just go, Mitsy!" her mother ordered again. "Go! Right now and then we can have some peace in this beehive."

Mitsy did not say a single word as she quietly left the room.

"Na, na, na, na, na, na....." she heard Rosie holler in a loud, singing voice.

"Ouch! Now I hurt my finger on that stupid thorn," Rosie screamed at her parents, a few moments later. Mitsy realized that Rosie must have found the stem of the tiny red rose on the floor. She immediately felt bad because she had not picked it up and taken it out of the room.

"And now the leg fell off my dumb doll too." Rosie was not about to stop being bad or screaming for more attention.

"What's wrong with that girl?" Mitsy heard her father ask her mother in a loud, angry voice.

"Now she tore that doll apart too!"

Whatever her mother replied, Mitsy could not hear.

"Rosie," Mitsi said to her sister quietly, but just in her mind, "You sure were a sweet, little baby bee when you were born. I remember Poppa and Momma being so happy. I never could understand why Poppa named you 'Rosie' though......maybe it's because you were destined to be both a 'rose' and a 'thorn'."

Mitsy continued her thoughts, "I really love all of my sisters but they can be such a pain sometimes."